Chapter One
Lewis and Clark National Historic Park
Fort-to-Sea trail corridor
Northern Oregon
* * *
The click came first — a hollow, metallic kiss against the sole of his buddy’s boot.
Instant.
Irreversible.
The world kicked. A dull, contained thump punched the air out of Bodie Page’s chest, hurling him backward in a rain of dirt, bark, and shredded fern. He hit hard, vision blurred, a high-pitched whine screaming in his head. Smoke filled his lungs, the bitter taste of blood and cordite thick on his tongue.
He rolled, pushed to his hands and knees, shrapnel peppered like patchwork down his right leg.
Evan Price was gone. Obliterated into fire and earth. Nothing but a smoking boot and his dog tags discernible amidst the carnage of blood and bone.
Wade Stone grunted off to Bodie’s right, hands wrapped around his thigh as bright blood pumped between his fingers. Bodie’s leg lit like a flare, but he crawled toward Wade, ears ringing, his mind narrowed to three irrefutable facts — Evan was dead, Wade was bleeding out, and they were in someone’s kill box.
Bodie grabbed Wade’s collar, dragged him behind an ancient fir, his gaze sweeping the foliage. Branches rustled in the distance, a single twig snapping somewhere behind them.
Buck Landry ghosted out of the smoke and debris, face smeared with blood — soot and mud streaked through his hair. He didn’t talk, just shoved Evan’s tags in Bodie’s pocket, helped Wade out of his medic bag, then cinched a tourniquet around Wade’s leg. Hands steady with the efficiency of a man who’d faced the devil and retained his soul.
Battered. Charred, but intact.
Buck wrote the time on Wade’s skin, then gave Bodie a hard look. They had about two hours before Wade suffered permanent damage from the restricted blood flow. Assuming they lasted that long.
Wade stared at the hole, eyes wide, unfocused. “What the fuck was that?”
Bodie had hemostatic gauze and pressure bandages spread out on Wade’s leg as he cut away the man’s pants below the tourniquet. “IED.”
“In a national park? I thought this was just some lame babysitting assignment? Geologists mapping out landslide risks so they could reopen this section? A cake walk. Now Evan’s…”
Wade’s voice trailed off, the rough edge filling in the rest. How they’d walked into a war they hadn’t known existed, and Evan had paid the ultimate price.
Bodie clenched his jaw, tying the bandages in place. “I…”
The first wave of suppression fire whispered past his head, punching the rough bark with a hollow thud. More rounds stitched through the trees, cutting down branches and leaves as footsteps vibrated up through the ground.
More men.
Moving through the underbrush.
Buck’s mouth twitched at the corner, eyes a bit wild. What Bodie assumed were those demons riding the man hard until Bodie grabbed his arm — held firm. Buck stared at him, breath evening out, hints of red creeping up his neck. He nodded once, shrugged the medic bag over his shoulders, then took point, returning controlled bursts into the surrounding forest. Keeping their enemy at bay until Bodie had Wade’s leg wrapped up — his buddy’s arm looped around his shoulder.
Bodie palmed his radio, static hissing above the next series of shots. “Dalton. Code Black. I repeat, Code Black. Get the civilians out now. South fire road. Don’t engage. Don’t stop. Just go!”
More static, then Dalton’s low rasp. “Copy. Civilians on the move. Hang tight, brother.”
“Negative, Dalton. Just take the crew and go.” The radio went dead. “Dalton. Shit.” Bodie ducked as more gunfire chewed through the underbrush. “Buck, on your three o’clock. Get ready to move. We’ll aim for the spur. See how motivated these guys are.”
Buck glanced at the charred, bloody patch for a moment. “Thinking pretty fucking motivated.”
A lump formed in Bodie’s throat, the tags in his pocket weighing him down. “Get ready to move on my mark.” He steadied Wade, waited for the lull of the bastards reloading, then motioned with his hand. “Now.”
